Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my character (although I would like an elf)
I woke up in a forest, with a short hairy man brandishing an axe in my face.
"Who are you? Where are you from?" He demanded. Like an idiot that I am, I just stood there and gawped at him while he waved his blade unnecessarily close to my nose. Behind him, further off, another two men (of normal height) woke with a start and quickly gathered up their weapons. The taller of which ventured closer, and I got a good look at his face. He looked rather haggard and unkempt, with stringy shoulder length dark hair and pale grey eyes. Dirt streaked across his face like he hasn't bathed in weeks. He was dressed full out medieval style, complete with a sword strapped to his belt. I stared at him for quite a while.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" The short man interrupted abruptly. Focussing my eyes back onto him, I could barely make out any of his features, which are concealed in the poor light and the absurd amount of auburn hair he grew on his face. Nonetheless, he had beady eyes that glared at me like I had killed his mother. He was dressed in a similar fashion as the other man, but with recognizable armour straps underneath a long cloak. This would have been quite intimidating if he wasn't 4 feet tall.
The last man approached stealthily, he appeared much tidier than his companions. His pale blonde hair literally shone in the night, and he moved with such grace and agility that he seemed non-human. The way he dressed certainly bore resemblance to Robin Hood- tunic, leggings, boots, and even a bow in his hands and a quiver of arrows slung over his back.
"Peace, my friend, "he said with a voice of ringing bells to the short man. "I believe you are frightening our guest." He turned to face me, pushing away the axe at the same time. "I am Legolas of the Woodland Realm."
Okay, don't panic. The nice blonde man is named Legolas-wait, what? Are my ears blocked, or am I hallucinating completely? If this was really the prince of Mirkwood, then the bearded axe guy could only be…
"Gimli, son of Gloin." Legolas continued, to my horror. "And this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
This couldn't be possible. One does not, cannot, simply disappear into Middle-earth with no inkling on how she got there, there has to be a logical reason to this. I racked desperately through my mind of how I could have came to be. Earlier today, I had just ended my volleyball practice and took the bus to my math tutor's place, I had crossed the street in a frenzy, partially because I was 10 minutes late, and partially I was too busy cursing my teammate of stealing my ball. That's probably why I didn't see the van turning the corner and heading towards me at 70 km per hour until its headlights glared into my eyes. It was too late.
"I'm dead," I said incredulously.